The Reign of Ice
by JeremyBenthamMill
Summary: Beginning with the events at the end of the movie, Elsa, unable to save Anna, watches her die. Unaware of Hans' role in her beloved sister's death, Elsa accepts her fate and surrenders to Hans' authority. Will she discover the truth before it's too late? What will she do if she does? A darker AU.
1. Chapter 1

Elsa sat shivering in her cell. It had been six months since her sister had died at her hand. Within minutes of ordering Elsa's arrest he had been crowned the new King of Arendelle. Elsa shivered, not because her tattered dress left her exposed to the harsh winter winds blowing through her cell window. She didn't shiver because few of the guards were brave enough to enter her cell to keep the fire lit. Elsa couldn't feel the cold. She shivered because from up in her cell, at the top of the highest tower in Arendelle, she could see Anna's lifeless body, now more of a monument than anything. She shivered because she knew what was coming, and she knew she deserved. Elsa turned away from the window and sighed, her breath crystallizing into a delicate icy butterfly that quickly flew away.

 _The third time today,_ she remarked to herself, wondering what would become of all of the little creatures she gave life to when the inevitable finally happened. She gathered what remained of her tattered cloak around her legs as she prepared to drift away into sleep once more. Sleep was the only time she could forget what she had done. When she slept, she felt herself drift away to faraway places. In her sleep, she had the strength to hurl boulders. She could fly through the air and burrow into the smallest crevices. In her sleep, she could be anywhere else, and that was what she craved most of all.

Elsa dreamed she was flying high above Arendelle. She flew higher and higher, even above the dark clouds and the torrents of snow until at least she could see the sun. Below her were the dark storm clouds of her creation, stretching as far as her eye could see. She flew this way and that way, but no matter how far she flew, she couldn't seem to find the edge of the storm.

She awoke to the sound of clanging. Hans. Hans was the only one brave enough to go up the tower to see her. He brought her one meal a day and every day asked her to end the storm. As if she wouldn't have already if she could. Today was different. He had no food, only a fresh change of clothes. "Elsa," Hans pronounced, "since you refuse to end this winter, the council has decided our only chance is to put you to death. Only then can we hope to stop this storm from growing."  
Elsa's face grew numb. She knew it was coming, but she still wasn't prepared. _Growing? Has the storm been growing this whole time? How many lives have I ruined with my magic?_ All she could muster was a small whisper: "when?"

"Tomorrow."

"I understand."

…

Elsa sat by her window for hours staring at her sister's frozen body, weeping. As she wiped her tears away she felt a strange sensation on her hands. Her tears had crystallized into hundreds of tiny insects swarming all over her hands and arms. She was not frightened, but sad. She brushed them gingerly from her hands onto the floor. Part of her hoped they wouldn't die with her, but she felt almost certain they would. They had to die if this horrible winter would ever end.

That night she dreamed she slipped through the crack between the door and the floor of her cell and crawled down the stairs. She dreamed the whole palace was asleep, save for some murmurings in the throne room. She wandered into the throne room where she saw Hans and the Duke of Weselton arguing. The Duke was angry but she wasn't sure what he was angry about. The Duke was going on and on about the Southern Isles and his desire to sign a new trade agreement. Then Hans said something she couldn't quite understand, but it took the Duke aback. After some time, she heard him say, "You're not the only one with spies, and I know the truth about what happened to the princess. I will not have Weselton be overpowered by your island Kingdom because you thought you could usurp the throne here. You will agree to my terms or I will tell that sorceress what you've done. What do you think she'll do?"

Hans seemed to consider for a moment. Elsa crept closer. Suddenly Hans plunged a dagger into the Duke's heart.

Then she woke up. The night was cold and she shuddered. Her memory of the dream was fuzzy, but she remembered that Hans had killed the Duke. What a strange dream. Why would Hans kill the Duke? She didn't care anymore. She was eager for tomorrow. Eager to die. Her dreams took her far away but her waking life was a nightmare. She changed into the white gown Hans had provided for her and waited.

…..

The next day Hans did not come for her. She was escorted from her cell by two guards. As she walked with them down the street an impressive crowd had gathered, though no one seemed to cheer or taunt her. Perhaps they were too afraid. When she got up on the platform she found Hans holding a sword. Elsa was forced to her knees before him.

"People of Arendelle," Hans began, "today we rid ourselves of your vile ice queen and her magic forever. As your King, I will swing the sword personally so that you may see who your sovereign is, and how even a powerful witch cannot threaten our stability."  
Elsa hated how arrogant he was, but she hated herself more. She looked out into the crowd at Anna's frozen body in the midst of everyone. It was such a sick constant reminder. She was glad she wouldn't have to see after today. She looked away from it as Hans continued to speak. She looked at the rows of seated dignitaries up front. They were all packed, all of them so eager to clamber for power once Hans had solidified his control.

Traditionally, in Arendelle, and neighboring kingdoms, the price a sovereign would pay for crimes against their subjects would be the ancient Danish custom of the Blood Eagle. Elsa was certain that the fear her subjects had for her would preclude such an unpleasant death from happening. This was confirmed for her when Hans greeted her with a sword. The Blood Eagle was done with an axe. She had never seen one, and it had been centuries since one was performed in Arendelle, but when she was a little girl cooped up in her room, she had read extensively about the practice. A small part of her was always curious to witness such a brutal spectacle, though she would never admit it. She was thinking to herself how lucky she was to have never had the chance to see one after all when Hans sheathed his sword.

He extended his hand and an axe was given to him. Elsa went numb. She was confused. She couldn't even think to say anything, though Hans was talking to her. She just stared out at the crowd but no one was staring back, not even the Dukes and Earls. "Wait a minute," she thought, "where's the Duke of Weselton?" Her thought was cut short as Hans asked her for her last words.

She whispered, "the Duke..."

"What?" He asked, "please speak loud enough for everyone to hear them. The last words of a Queen are important." She felt something crawling up her neck. She looked down to see one of her tears from the day before on her. Something felt familiar about it. It reminded her of something.

It all came to her at once. Her dreams. The flying, the crawling, the hurling. They weren't dreams at all. She was seeing the world through her creations. The Duke wasn't present because he was dead, and he was dead because he knew something. He knew the truth. The truth about Anna. That somehow Elsa wasn't responsible. She looked up.

"You killed Anna."

Hans' eyes grew wide. He swung the axe. The axe shattered before it even touched Elsa's neck. Her shackles froze as she ripped them apart. Rising, she shouted this time. "You killed Anna!" The force of the wind and the sound of thunder mingled with her voice as it blasted over the crowd. Suddenly a swarm of crystal butterflies descended from above the clouds onto the crowd, lacerating onlookers with their razor sharp wings.

Hans trembled. He fell to his knees as he watched Elsa's gown transform from matte white to shimmering blue. He opened his mouth to speak but only frosty breath came out. His body was freezing from the inside out. Elsa reached out and plunged her hand into his chest. He shattered into a thousand pieces instantly. Chaos was breaking out all around her. "Quiet!" she screamed as everyone's feet became frozen in place.  
Elsa surveyed the crowd and made a pronouncement. "There will be no execution today." The crowd fell silent. The bishop was the first to speak. "Will you be returning to the mountains?"

"No."  
Silence again. Elsa looked around and saw the fear on everyone's faces. She knew she could never be like her parents, loved and adored by everyone across the kingdom, but she could be better. She was cursed, but she would make her curse afflict her enemies. She was done letting it afflict her.

One of the nobles broke free from his boots and began to approach her. "You cannot stay here!" He shouted. "We will not be ruled by a vile sorceress!" He drew his sword and stood defiantly before her. She turned to the bishop. "Is that true? Can I not be coronated as Queen?"

The Bishop cleared his throat. "Sorcery is a crime according to the customs of the Kingdom of Arendelle and the Church I represent. Lord Erik is right. You cannot remain here as our sovereign." Elsa turned away from the crowd in thought.

"Would you like to reconsider?" She offered. The Bishop moved to speak but he choked on his words in his mouth. His eyes grew wide as a horrible transformation began before everyone in sight. Elsa turned to face him as his skin turned a ghastly shade of blue, and then jetblack. Frostbite spread over his entire body, consuming him. Then, a shell of ice began to form around his lifeless body. The ice cracked and bowed until it began to force his body to contort and jerk around. The crowd watched this shell of ice consume him and they could barely make out the bishops shriveled body within. The writhing mass of ice fell to its knees.

Then it rose again. Its mouth opened and in a horrible, mechanical voice completely unlike the Bishop said, "I would be happy to crown you Queen. Your subjects are eager to serve you."

She turned to Lord Erik, but before he could speak the same transformation was already beginning. As his body shifted and contorted she spoke to the crowd.  
"Does anyone else take issue with your rightful sovereign?" Silence again. Lord Erik's lifeless body stood up and shouted, again, mechanically, "Long live the Empress!"

The reign of Empress Elsa had begun, and with it, the dawn of the Arendelian Empire.


	2. Chapter 2

Lars warmed himself by the fire. He was the only son of a tavern keeper in Arendelle. The Antlers Tavern was the most popular in the whole city, and his father Jens was respected by many, but Lars hated his father. He got up from his chair beside the hearth and put on his fur coat. His house, though small, was well furnished. It was not his family's only property, and his uncle owned both of the houses on either side of his humble dwelling.

Lars stepped outside into the bristling cold, his heavy oak door swinging shut behind him. He sighed. Though he had written a speech for the occasion, he was still uncertain of what he was going to say. He crossed the cobblestone street where he greeted his uncle Karl waiting beneath a streetlamp.

"Are you ready boy?" his Karl asked.

"Ready for what, uncle?" Lars was annoyed. He loved his uncle, but he hated how he always cleaned up after his father. "It's not as though I've never addressed a crowd before."

"I don't mean the eulogy boy. Are you ready to take on your father's legacy?"

"Oh." Lars had almost forgotten. After today, the tavern, the lands and various lodges, as well as a hefty sum at the bank, would become his. He didn't care. The business his father built practically ran itself, and Lars was never very ambitious. He was, however, looking forward to throwing that whore out of his father's house. "I have some ideas. Let's talk later. Did you talk to the bishop?"

Karl's eyes widened. "No I didn't talk to that thing" he hissed. His eyes darted left and right. "I'm not comfortable discussing this," he whispered, "She has eyes and ears everywhere." Lars rolled his eyes. His uncle was always so paranoid.

"Uncle, the funeral is _today_ , and you know we need dispensation from the Bishop to honor father's wishes." Lars' father wasn't a Christian unlike most of Arendelle. He still clung to the old ways, and so he always claimed he would have a pagan funeral. Just months ago, such an idea would have seemed mad, but with the ascension of Queen Elsa, these things became possible. She was very accepting of the old ways, and therefore, so was the new Bishop of Arendelle.

Ordinarily Lars would have never gone out of his way to do something to please his father, but he shared his father's faith. Performing the pagan rituals was just as important to him as it was for his father. Lars was incredibly annoyed. "Have you at least had the men start breaking up the ice for the boat?"

Karl pulled his nephew in close. "Yes, yes, but I will not be speaking to that monster. It isn't right." He paused, looking up. Lars glanced upwards at one of the Queen's frost butterflies. _How powerful she must be to breath life into the world_. _Perhaps soon even men like my uncle will return to the old ways_.

"Uncle, I will take care of it. But I want you to do something for me." Karl nodded as they began walking down the deserted street together. It was very early, but in truth few spent time on the streets of the outskirts anymore. It was cold, and the Queen had in one day constructed a massive trading center in place of the town square. She called it the Commercial Center, but the people called it the Queen's hall. That's where Lars and his uncle were going.

The whole city was transforming, and with it their customs. Gone were the street peddlers and beggars. Now, in order to trade, citizens had to apply for a permit in the Queen's hall. In the city center, all of the cobblestone was frozen over in solid sheets. As Lars and Karl approached the city center they embraced. Karl promised Lars he would have his father's house vacated by sundown.

Lars approached one of the cabs on the outside of the city center. In just two days after her reign had begun, the Queen had all of the transportation in the city retrofitted with blades instead of wheels to glide along the ice. Under the direction of her appointed Mayor, Olaf, all of the horses were outfitted with special horseshoes for greater traction on the ice. Their hooves, of course, damaged the pristine ice, along with the blades on the cabs. This would have been most problematic, only the Queen, along with granting a medallion to cab operators in the city, also granted each cab a personal thundercloud that replaced the tattered ice behind them with fresh snowfall and ice.

"To the cathedral please," Lars spoke to the cabbie and paid his fair. He marvelled at the cloud behind him. _She is truly a goddess. Thank the gods she is with us and not of another country_. Midway between the Queen's hall and the cathedral stood the monument the Queen had made for her sister. Elevated above everything on a massive ice pillar, Princess Anna stood at eye level with Queen Elsa's room in the palace. Every day, the Queen would walk, as though on air, from her balcony to her sister and fall to her feet, weeping.

Many people used to mock and deride her privately for weeping in the early days of her reign. After all, they would say, the Queen murdered the princess. Within the first two months of her ascension, most of those people had disappeared. The one's who didn't, had nothing but kind things to say of the Queen.

When Lars arrived at the cathedral, the Bishop was already waiting outside. His crystalline skin reflected the early morning rays brilliantly. Gone was his previously chilling mechanical voice that Lars had heard when the Queen first ascended. He now sounded, well, like the Bishop always sounded.

"I've been expecting you Lars Jensson."

Lars stumbled, confused, out of the cab. "You have?"

"Oh but of course, it's your father's funeral today, and I have already granted written dispensation for your funeral to be held in accordance with the old ways."

"I-Thank you, your Eminence." Lars stood, stunned.

"Come in. Come into the church my good man. We have much to discuss."

Lars stood blankly, before following the Bishop inside.

….

Lars stood in his father's empty house. The funeral had been cathartic for him. Something about firing a flaming arrow into his father's heart put him at peace. His uncle had removed every vestige of that vile woman who tormented him so from the house. Lars felt, simply put, good.

Still, he couldn't help but dwell on his conversation with the Bishop. _Why does the Queen want to see me? How does she know so much about me?_ He was nervous, too. Tomorrow, before he met with the Queen, he was apparently meant to meet with her spymaster, Kristoff. _What do I have to offer these people_? _What do they want from me?_ Lars had been eager to live a quiet life enjoying the profits of his father's labor. Now, he was excited for something else.

He wanted to serve his Queen. He didn't care what his Uncle said. Sure the Queen's ascension had been brutal, but those people killed the Princess. The Queen was doing right by avenging her. And she was the rightful Queen. He didn't care what the Christian Pope had to say. She was the only one with a rightful claim to the throne, and she was the only one who could stand up to the Southern Isles, or the trading power of Weselton.

He stomped around on the wooden floors of his father's abode. _I need new furniture_ , he thought.

….

Lars awoke to a start. There was a reindeer staring him in his face. _I must be dreaming_. The reindeer licked him in his face. It's breath was, without a doubt, the most disgusting thing Lars had ever smelled. "What the fuck!" Lars screamed as he jumped out of bed, his face soaking wet with the putrid saliva.

"I see you've met Sven." A man said from his doorway. It was Kristoff. _Why is the spymaster in my house? I'm not supposed to meet him until tonight!_

"I hope you don't mind," Kristoff said, "I let myself in."

"Sure I-of course you can-"

"I'm here because the Queen can't see you today."

Lars stared dumbly. Kristoff was a broad man with piercing eyes. Around his neck he wore an amulet of the Princess in the exact likeness of the monument in the city center, a gift from the Queen.

"She can't see you, but she has a job for you."

Lars pulled a cloak over his body to cover himself.

"What does my Queen need of me?" He tried to sound as dignified as possible despite the intrusion.

"She needs you to go accompany the Duke of Weaseltown back home."

 _The Duke is alive? Why does she need me?_ Lars started to speak but he was interrupted.

"She needs you to go to Weaseltown with him, and start a new tavern there."

"W-why does the Queen want a tavern in Weselton?"

"Lars," Kristoff smiled, "first of all, the Queen calls it Weaseltown, so that's how it's pronounced." Kristoff stepped forward toward him. "Second of all, the Queen gave you an order." He dropped a hefty bag of gold at his feet. "Take this. It should cover your operating expenses for a month or two." Sven, who had been silent up until now, made a grunt.

"Oh, that's right Sven, I almost forgot."

 _Can the spymaster talk to his fucking reindeer? Is this the Queen's magic?_

Kristoff reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a locked box, about the size of his head. "When you lease your tavern, unlock this box, and put it in your basement."

Kristoff then reached into his pocket. "This is the key." Lars went to take it but Kristoff pulled away.

"Do not under any circumstances open this box. Understand?"

"Y-yeah I got it."  
"Great, come to the palace at dinnertime for a warm meal and to pick up the Duke."  
Before Lars could even reply Kristoff and Sven were bounding down his stairs together. _What is the deal with that reindeer?_ He looked at the key and then at the box. He lifted the box up onto his bed. It was surprisingly light. He would need to see his uncle before he left. Lars had never been to Weselton. He was nervous, but more than anything, he felt excitement. When he was a boy, magic was just a plot point in the stories his mother told him. Now, it was everywhere.


End file.
